


Across The Hall

by Bre



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Idiots in Love, Made For Each Other, Male-Female Friendship, Neighbors, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romantic Friendship, Smut, because everyone sees they're in love, but they don't see it, it might go further who knows what these two crazy kids will do, it's totally random, there is no story order in this fic, this is purely friends with benefits at this point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-05-27 22:49:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6303217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bre/pseuds/Bre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU, PWP. Felicity and Oliver live across the hall from each other. </p><p>(A purely friends with benefits fic, where Oliver and Felicity are extremely obtuse and can't see they're in love with each other, but everyone else can. There is no story order in this fic, it's purely for fun.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote some of these because I had smut feels and needed to get them out... and then these jerks wouldn't leave me alone. And to be honest, [Es (aka simplyfragile)](http://simplyfragile.tumblr.com/) didn't help CRAP by sending me headcanons.
> 
> I'm creating their own story because I needed a place for this 'verse since some of the fics aren't pure smut, like the original installments. And sometimes plain ol' PWP is needed because everything else I'm writing has a lot of feelings and plot, and I have a tendency towards laziness.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Felicity goes to Oliver's because she's out of sugar.

Felicity frowned at the cupboard, the very empty cupboard, the very empty-of-sugar cupboard.  


She had no sugar.

_She had no sugar._

She’d forgotten to pick up sugar on her way home last night and now she was sugarless, and she _needed_ sugar in her coffee. It wasn’t even an option, sugarless coffee - she’d tried it once and the result had led to a twenty-minute rant about how in the world she’d gotten to the point where she needed sugar in her coffee, including her dangerous obsession with Starbucks and the insane amount of sugar her mother puts in her coffee.

She needed sugar.

And she’d already started a pot of coffee and she wasn’t about to _waste_ coffee just because she didn’t have sugar…

But she didn’t want to go to the store.

Felicity grabbed her MIT sweatshirt and pulled it on, tugging it into place as she grabbed her keys and opened her front door.

She barely glanced around. Her neighbors were more than used to what she looked like on the weekend, Oliver in particular; her wandering around with her face still sleep-smooshed, hair up in a messy, lopsided bun and ratty sweats was of the norm around these parts so she just readjusted the sweatshirt - the hallways in their building were always freezing - and pulled her door closed behind her before darting across the hall.

Fitting the key into the lock, she let herself into Oliver’s apartment.

It was well past ten in the morning, but the entire place was silent.

He was still sleeping.

Slowly pocketing the keys, Felicity angled her head towards Oliver’s bedroom to see if she’d woken him but she heard nothing.

Tiptoeing into the kitchen, she switched the light on, heading straight for the cupboard above his coffee machine. This wasn’t the first time and it darn well wouldn’t be the last time. Oliver didn’t use nearly as much sugar as she did in her house - it was both a conundrum to her and a blessing because it meant he always had sugar when she needed sugar, such as right now.

She _needed_ coffee, and she _needed_ sugar in her coffee.

Felicity opened the cupboard, her eyes lighting on the heavenly package.

With a silent, “Aha,” Felicity pushed herself up onto her toes to grab the sugar bag… well, she _tried_ to grab the sugar bag but it was all the… way… up… there.

“God, why does he have to be so tall?” Felicity whispered, half-climbing onto the counter until her fingers hooked in the edge of the bag and she yanked on it just enough that it fell into her hand. With a quiet huff, she climbed back down and closed the cupboard. She might have considered just taking what she needed for her coffee, but keeping it so damn high when he knew he had vertically-challenged neighbors was just rude, so she was taking the entire thing.

Felicity switched the light off and left the kitchen.

She was halfway to the front door when she heard a soft groan and something shifting on his couch.

Felicity’s eyes snapped shut with a wince and she froze… maybe he didn’t even know she was there…

“Are you stealing from me, Felicity?” his rough sleep-laden voice asked, coming right from the couch and she deflated.

“No,” Felicity scoffed. “I’m _borrowing_. How’d you even know it was me?”

“Polite people knock before they barge into their neighbor’s apartment.”

“Hey, I’m polite.”

“You _never_ knock. And if you’re so polite then why are you taking the entire bag?”

“I…” Felicity scowled at the couch, shifting the sugar. “I didn’t bring a measuring cup.”

“That’s because you don’t have a measuring cup,” he said, his voice muffled as he dug his face into the couch cushion.

“Hey, I could have a measuring cup,” Felicity said, shuffling over to the couch as he shifted again, letting out a deep sigh like he had zero plans to move for the rest of the day. “You don’t know if I don’t have a measuring cup. I could be measuring stuff all the time and you wouldn’t even know it.”

“Like what?”

“Like… _stuff_ , that’s…”

Felicity rounded the couch, expecting to see a hungover Oliver still dressed in last night’s clothes. That’s not what she saw. She paused, her eyes widening as she took him.

“… what,” she finished halfheartedly, her body clenching.

He was naked, completely and totally and absolutely _naked_. He was sprawled out over his couch on his stomach, his face buried in his arms, the blanket he’d started out with pushed to the side, leaving _nothing_ to the imagination. Her mouth went dry as she took in the way the muscles in his back moved, from his shoulders right down to that _amazing_ ass of his, the ass that was moving as he readjusted again, as he took a deep breath, letting it out in a whoosh of air. He relaxed into the couch - such a good couch, she loved his couch, it was huge and fluffy and it held his frame so _nicely_ …

“You better bring it back this time,” he mumbled. She barely heard him. “I’m pretty sure you owe me at least a hundred dollars-worth of sugar at this point.”

“Uh-huh,” she breathed. Need rushed through her, a low burn starting deep in the pit of her stomach. It slowly spread through her as she stared at him. Felicity swallowed, her eyes glued to his ass. “Oliver, you’re naked.”

He just grunted, like he was thoroughly unimpressed with that fact.

“That’s it?” Felicity asked. “That’s all you have to say? I just walked into your apartment…”

“You’ve seen me naked before,” he managed to get in but she talked right over him.

“… and you don’t even care that you’re naked on the couch like you do this every day or… oh my god, do you do this every day?”

“It’s too early for this, Felicity.”

“Because if you do this every day, I might need… sugar. Every day.”

He huffed out a sleepy laugh, but he still didn’t move.

That was her cue. He obviously wanted to sleep more, and she had her sugar, and that was her cue to leave, to go back to her apartment, to maybe take an early shower and get intimate with that showerhead, but either way, that was her cue.

But she didn’t leave.

No, no, she definitely did not leave… because she needed something to think about when she got into the shower, that’s why. Not that her imagination wasn’t amazing, but real life was _even better_.

And she did have to thank him for the sugar.

Felicity licked her lips and moved towards the couch, setting the sugar down on the coffee table.

“Oliver,” she whispered, leaning down, her fingers grazing over his shoulder blade. He barely twitched, which told her he’d heard every single movement she’d made, so he knew exactly where she was. “Sit up.”

He grunted, not getting up… but he did move, shifting slightly, pressing his hips deep into the couch, making that gorgeous ass of his clench.

Her mouth _watered_ at the sight.

Felicity nudged his shoulder. “Up.”

“Felicity…” he groaned, but he did move.

Oliver pushed himself up just enough to be sitting and her eyes instantly found his semi-erect cock as she moved just enough for him to swing his legs down to the floor. She watched him scrub his face before blinking at her sleepily and _god_ , he was gorgeous, so gorgeous it made her chest hurt. His stubble was longer than usual, obviously not having had a chance to trim it just yet, and his hair was all askew from sleeping.

He looked up at her and she bit her lip at the image of pure sex he exuded.

Her panties were damp with her growing arousal.

“What?” he grunted.

Felicity didn’t reply.

Instead, she leaned over him, her hands landing on his thighs. She pushed them apart, settling on her knees before him.

His breath hitched, his lids growing heavier as he watched her.

Felicity kept her eyes on his as she slid her hands up his thighs, her fingers finding his twitching cock.

He was already growing hard, harder by the second as his breathing stuttered, his mouth closing long enough to swallow - Felicity watched his throat work, finding it ridiculously sexy, and another swath of need shot through her, making her sex clench with desire - before it fell open in a quiet pant.

She closed her fists around his cock, twisting her hands slightly as she moved up and he arched into her, his head falling back.

But he never took his eyes off her.

Felicity licked her lips, making him groan, his eyes dropping to watch her tongue slip around the edge of her mouth.

“Felicity,” he whispered, his voice cracking, his cock growing even harder.

Felicity’s response was to lean over him and guide his cock into her mouth.

“Oh god,” Oliver hissed, his hands flying to her messy hair.

He shoved his fingers into the tangled strands, gripping them tightly as she swirled her tongue around him, wetting him, taking as much of him in as she could before she pulled up, tightening her lips around his shaft, taking her sweet time to reach the tip. With each inch that left her mouth, she slowly wrapped her hands around him again, grasping him tightly.

Oliver whimpered - he was already trembling underneath her and it only got worse as she sucked on the head of his cock, sliding her tongue over the tiny slit, licking away a drop of precum.

She slowly started pumping her hands together, squeezing him rhythmically as she sucked on him, looking up at him through her lashes, her eyes meeting his as he watched her.

“Felicity…” he whined. He arched his back, his body shaking. He was still half-asleep, barely awake, and she was taking total and complete advantage of him, but he was still aware enough that he didn’t just grab her and thrust up.

Felicity knew he wanted to thrust into her mouth, he wanted to feel the hot warmth of her tongue on him, her teeth scraping him, feel the tight clenching in her throat when she swallowed him down. She knew what he _needed_ , and she almost wanted to tease him - she wanted to play, build him up, work him until he was begging for her to finish him off.

But she had coffee waiting and she was starting to throb with a demanding need, and she knew if they started more she’d never leave his apartment, which would be amazing and great except _coffee_ and she needed to finish up some Christmas shopping.

Felicity let him go, sprawling her hands over his lower stomach as she took his entire length back into her mouth.

“Oh… _fuck_ ,” he gasped, his back arching again as he met her, thrusting up, his fingers digging into her hair.

Felicity’s head started moving up and down on him, slowly gaining speed, sucking on him, taking as much as she could into her mouth while dragging her tongue along the sensitive underside before letting her teeth slide over his hard shaft.

Oliver bucked underneath her, his hands tightening on her head, guiding her movements, moving her faster.

He was shaking, his thighs trembling around her, his muscles twitching with his oncoming release, his cock swelling…

“That feels so… so fucking good, oh god,” he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep and arousal, and it sent her own desire rocketing up again.

She wanted to pull her pants off and climb up his body, licking and sucking her way up until she reached his mouth… she wanted to crawl into his lap, feel his gorgeous hardness right where she needed it as she kissed him, letting him taste himself as she lifted herself up, his hands finding her hips, the head of his cock sliding through her wetness…

She moaned around him, making him hiss as the vibrations shot through him.

Felicity clamped her mouth down around him, sucking as hard as she could, earning her a hoarse shout from deep in his chest as his head fell back, every bit of his attention focused solely on her mouth and the pleasure she was giving him. Her name was a litany on his lips as she sucked him off, her hand moving to grip the base of his cock…

She squeezed him tightly there, her other hand dropping to his balls, gripping them in a tight fist.

“Yes, yes, _yes_ ,” he gasped.

He thrust up into her mouth, bumping the back of her throat, and she swallowed down her gag reflex as he fucked her mouth, the desperate whiny noises falling from his mouth making her feel like fire was racing through her veins as much as it made her feel powerful that she could bring this potent man to his knees like that.

Felicity released the base of his cock, moving even faster. Her neck ached its protest, but she barely felt it, only caring about bringing him to completion.

He gripped her hair in tight fists, his moan slowly growing louder until his voice was echoing through his apartment.

Felicity twisted his balls again, just enough, just enough to make him arch up off the couch with a, “Yes, yes, oh fuck,” his hips moving to meet her mouth as she pushed him closer and closer…

“Oh god, yes, yes… Felicity!”

Oliver came with a heady shout, spilling into her. His cum filled her mouth and she pulled away to swallow him down, making him groan louder as he pulled her head back mindlessly, thrusting shallowly into her mouth.

She sucked on him, sucking him dry until he had nothing left.

Oliver fell back on the couch, completely limp, gasping for air, his hands falling to her shoulders.

Felicity licked him clean, releasing his spent cock with a silent pop. She licked her lips, wiping the corners of her mouth before she stood up.

Felicity smiled down at him, clenching her thighs together - definitely, _definitely_ taking a shower before her errands - before she leaned over him, pressing a soft kiss to his stubbled cheek.

“Thanks for the sugar,” she whispered.

Oliver barely managed a whimper in return, trying to lift his hand in response, but he had no energy.

Felicity grinned, patted his cheek, and then she grabbed her sugar, and left, locking the door behind her.

The End


	2. Loud Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Oliver comes home and hears loud music coming from Felicity's apartment.

Oliver didn’t bother knocking - she wouldn’t hear him over the music anyway. It was nearly three in the damn morning and he’d come home from work to not only find that she’d snuck over and taken some of his leftover homemade pizza - despite himself, it made him chuckle, because he knew she couldn’t cook worth a good goddamn - but also to the loud boom of music coming from her apartment.

He unlocked her door, pushing it open, wincing as the music got _louder._

“Felicity!” he shouted, turning on the hall light before entering the living room. “It’s three in the goddamn morning, what are you…?”

Oliver trailed off when he saw her.

She was on her stomach, sprawled out on her couch, one leg stretched out, tapping to the music that was coming from the record player on the floor next to her. Her hand hovered over the spinning record, her head moving in time with it, making the perfectly coiled curls she had in place bounce.

She was wearing one of his white dress shirts - he didn’t even remember leaving it there, which meant she’d probably taken it at some point… no, no, that was the shirt he’d worn after that gala thing at work and he’d come here instead of going to his own apartment - and nothing else.

Felicity Smoak was completely naked saved for his shirt and his body instantly hardened at the sight. She was a _vision_ , her toned legs and ass, all leading up to lush hips that tapered into a gentle waist, her skin _glowing_ against the white of his shirt.

She was naked, right there, and goddamn, if she just moved a little bit, she’d be straddling the edge of the couch where she could _rub_ …

Oliver swallowed, adjusting himself through his slacks.

_Damn._

She was completely oblivious to him, every bit of her attention focused on the music. She gyrated slightly on the couch, her hips moving against it as she danced. Felicity buried her face into a couch cushion, her body wiggling as she sang softly, the words muffled.

He swallowed again, watching her move on the couch - never in his life had he actually wanted to be a couch, but in this moment…

He wanted to be that damn couch.

She lifted her head again, the words flowing off her tongue.

She was drunk.

Oliver would’ve known it just by the way she was moving and the slur in her voice, but the empty bottle of wine knocked on its side, lying next to a half-empty bottle and a water glass full of red wine confirmed it.

_Classy._

She was drunk and wiggling on the couch half-naked, looking sinfully beautiful and Oliver suddenly had the image in his head of walking right over there and pulling her up on her knees, pressing his hand between her legs as he situated her on the edge, at the perfect height to thrust into her from behind…

Before he could finish that thought though, Felicity sat up again. She was still moving with the music as she abruptly reached over to pull the needle off the record, already looking for another record in the mess of them scattered all over the floor, the music from the current one dying a squeaky death.

The sudden rush of silence was almost deafening when she noticed him.

A grin erupted across her face.

“Oliver…” she said, biting her lip, pushing herself up onto her elbows. She still had on her makeup, a gorgeous compliment to her hair - she looked like she’d gone out that night. She smiled at him, wavering slightly. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he replied, nodding to the record player. “Are you trying to make everyone hate you?”

Felicity pouted and the sight of her plump lips made his hardening cock twitch. “No.”

“Then how about we keep the music down, huh?”

“Oh.” She looked down at the record player and then back at him. “Was it loud?”

“It was more than loud,” he said, moving to step back into the hallway - because he was going back to his place. Because it was three in the morning and he had another long day of work the next day and also because he knew if he took one more step towards her. he wouldn’t be leaving. “Goodnight, Felicity.”

“Were you working?” she asked, making him pause again as she stretched back out on the couch. Oliver’s eyes instantly followed the lean lines of her body, his mouth falling open of its own volition as he watched her move. “You’re dressed in work clothes.”

“Yeah, I just got home,” he said, his voice a little breathless.

He should be leaving, he should be going back to his place… but he wasn’t. Instead, he drank her in. Her legs were so long where they were laid out on the couch, and her ass… god, he _loved_ her ass. His palms itched to walk over and grip it, hear her quick intake as he spread her cheeks, opening her up for him…

“So that’s why you weren’t home,” Felicity mumbled, looking up at him through her curls.

“And that’s why you took my pizza.”

“Mm… you’re so much better at pizza than me,” she whispered, burrowing into the couch, biting her lip again.

Oliver barely bit back his groan.

He was moving towards her before he knew what he was doing.

“You look nice,” he said.

“Date,” she replied, still shifting on the couch. She sighed as she readjusted, arching her back to press her lower half in, digging her nails into the cushion, almost like she was… no, no, she was just moving. Just moving. “He was boring.”

Oliver chuckled. When he reached her, he crouched down next to her, moving the bottles and glass out of the way so they didn’t get knocked over before reaching over to brush the curls off her face.

“So is that why you’re laying naked on your couch blaring music?”

“I’m not naked,” she mumbled, giving him that little pout again.

Oliver let out a shaky breath, his eyes dancing down her body. No, definitely not _entirely_ naked.

But it’d be so easy to get there. His shirt was barely buttoned on her.

When his eyes reached her face again, she was staring at him. He watched her eyes grow darken, her face flushing the longer he stared at her.

Felicity didn’t say anything as she shifted to the edge of the couch, reaching for his hand. She laced her fingers through his, licking her lips before she pulled it up on the couch with her and down the length of her body.

His eyes followed her movements, his breathing growing heavy, knowing exactly what she was doing.

“Oliver,” she whispered, her voice heavy with need and then she lifted her hips, pushing their hands down between her legs.

Felicity pushed their fingers against her sex - _god_ , she was so wet - slipping through her juices as she pressed them in further, a whimpered moan falling from her lips. Her eyes closed as she slowly rotated her hips, spreading her legs slightly so they could reach her clit.

“God, Felicity,” Oliver breathed, his eyes on her hips, her slick wetness coating his fingers.

She pushed him closer, a harsh pant slipping from her lips as she spread her legs further, seeking more friction.

“Oliver…” Her brow furrowed, her body tightening, needing _more_.

He choked out a groan, his hand falling down to the heavy bulge in his pants.

“Please…”

“Don’t stop,” he whispered. Felicity nodded frantically, sucking her lip between her teeth as Oliver stood up. He kept his hand laced with hers buried between her legs - he stiffened his fingers, rubbing right against her clit, making her whine for him - and he climbed onto the couch with her, blanketing her body with his just enough to increase the pressure…

He pressed his hard cock against her ass, the smooth material of his pants slipping over her gentle curves and pushed her down against their hands.

“Oh god,” Felicity gasped, her hips jerking. “Yes…”

Oliver held himself up on his elbow to keep most of his weight off her, but he didn’t spare her nearly as much as he could have, pushing her deep into the couch, pressing their hands harder against her.

She gave him a sharp cry as she rocked against their fingers, the noises falling from her growing louder as she grew wetter, soaking both of them.

Oliver rotated his hips, thrusting down, sending a wicked jolt of pleasure searing though him as he rubbed his length against her. He leaned over her, nuzzling the back of her neck, making her shiver underneath him as he thrust down, mimicking her movements over and over, following her lead as she rubbed herself with their fingers.

“Yes, oh god, yes, yes… don’t stop, don’t stop,” she whimpered desperately, her hips moving faster, and he didn’t. He thrust down harder, increasing the pressure, making her cry out.

“Come for me, Felicity,” Oliver whispered, thrusting her down against their hands, his voice cracking as he rode her himself. He wanted to feel her fall apart around him, feel her come apart at the seams, feel her trembling underneath him, her little clit growing more and more tender until there was nothing left but oblivion. She cried out, thrusting into their hands, rubbing her clit right over both of their fingers, harder and harder, more… “Come, Felicity… come for me.”

“Oliver…” she cried. “Oliver, Oliver, oh god, oh god, oh… aaah!”

She stiffened underneath him, her hips moving in a flurry, chasing her release, chasing oblivion… and then she came with a vicious shout, a sound that ripped out of her chest and echoed through the apartment, her juices flooding both of them, her sex clenching with a needy desperation, her clit trembling under his touch…

Oliver rubbed himself against her, the friction making him grit his teeth as he got another aftershock out of her, her entire body jerking with the force of it before she yanked their fingers out from between her legs with a whimpered, “Too much, too much.”

He was still hard, painfully fucking hard…

“Felicity,” he groaned.

“Oliver,” she breathed. “Oliver… oh god…”

Oliver climbed off her and gently rolled her over onto her back before lifting her up into his arms, carrying her into her bedroom.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	3. Keys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Felicity gives Oliver a set of keys to her apartment.

Oliver heard her before he saw her.

It was the gentle whoosh of the front entrance opening, followed by a quick, “Oh _frak_ ,” and then a solid thud as something fell to the ground just as he rounded the corner of his new apartment building.

It wasn’t _new_ new, but it was still new enough, even after a month, because he was quickly learning that this was not going to be like his last building. There, nobody talked to anybody unless they absolutely had to, and even then his neighbors kept a distance - it was to be expected in a high-rise in Starling City; the city was a large enough metropolis where anonymity was absolutely sacred.

That wasn’t the case in his new building.

Case in point, one Felicity Smoak, his neighbor directly across the hall.

Oliver stopped short when he turned the corner, his jaw dropping when he saw her. Rather, when he saw what she was doing. No, what she was _wearing_. Or what she wasn’t wearing as was the case.

Felicity was gorgeous in her own way - she had an amazing body, yes, and gorgeous blue eyes with lush lips and a blush that traveled across every inch of her body, something he’d learned when she’d ran into him for the first time wearing those tiny little things that supposedly passed for shorts and she’d accidentally complimented him on his ‘package’ - but it wasn’t just that. It was the way her eyes sparkled no matter what she was doing, the happiness in her grin, the dimples that expressed her joy and her fluttery movements that illustrated the randomness that fell from those lips.

She was life incarnate, and he found himself drawn to her in a way he’d never been drawn to anyone before.

Felicity Smoak was the sun and the second he saw her, he got sucked into her gravitational pull without a single complaint on his part.

And for that reason alone, he’d kept his distance.

The last thing Oliver wanted was a relationship - the thought of getting into another one made him groan, made lead fill his stomach because _goddamn_ , they were energy drainers - and while he wanted to be near Felicity more than anything whenever she randomly appeared, he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression.

Which was too bad, because she was…

She was something else.

He only knew her from a few cursory conversations in the hallway, and just from those few moments he could tell she was amazing, but the second he’d felt that, _‘You wanna hang out sometime?’_ urge come over him, he bit it down because for him, it’d just be hanging out, but what if she thought it was more? And what if he upset her or pissed her off when he led with that? How many times had he seen the smile fall off a woman’s face when he said that - _‘I’m not looking for anything’_ \- like he was personally attacking her? Too many times.

He had to _live_ near her, he didn’t want to push her away more than he already was, or offend her.

So… distance.

Although she wasn’t doing a fucking _thing_ to help him with that.

Oliver blinked.

Felicity was bent over, picking up items that’d fallen out of her purse where it’d hit the ground, and she was _bent over_ , wearing skintight black jeans and a mid-riff sweater that was sliding up… up…

She wasn’t wearing a bra.

She wasn’t wearing _anything_ under that sweater.

_Shit._

A rush of heat swept through him, his pants tightening at the sight of her breasts dangling as she picked her items up off the ground. They swayed with her movements, and he caught sight of one of her nipples when she leaned further over. His mouth went dry at the sight, his eyes narrowing… and then he wondered how responsive her breasts were. Would he have her in a quivering mess if he spent an inordinate amount of time circling that dusky nipple, watching it harden painfully as he toyed with her, or were they less sensitive, to the point where he could wrap his lips around one and _bite_ it…

What the hell was he thinking?

_Distance._

Did she have any idea what she was doing?

Something told him she didn’t really care, and that made his pants even tighter. There was something incredibly intoxicating about a woman who walked around not giving a shit about what people saw or thought, just being herself.

Oliver shook his head - of course his neighbor had to look like this and dress like that and _be_ like that.

As he approached, he heard her mumbling to herself about broken tablets and broken brains.

A little smile tugged at his lips and he furrowed his brow, cocking his head as he made his way over. He was about to say something when his shadow gave him away and she looked up quickly, her eyes wide before she saw it was him, and then a huge smile broke out over his face.

God, she was beautiful… and sexy as _fuck_.

His pants suddenly felt like they were suffocating him and he resisted the urge to reach down and readjust because _that_ would be an appropriate thing to do when the only thing he could think was _‘keep you fucking distance, Queen’_ when he was near her.

“Oliver!” she said, standing up, holding a handful of lipstick, lip gloss and pens against her chest as she turned to face him. “Your timing is impeccable.”

“Oh?” he asked, unable to keep the grin off his lips. Gorgeous, sexy _and_ cute. _Damn it._ “To help you pick up your stuff?”

“Ha,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “No, I’m used to this. This happens every other day, I carry too much stuff. Who needs all this lipstick at any given time?” She juggled the items, mumbling, “I guess I could, you know, put my stuff _in_ the purse.” She picked up her purse, dropping the items in there in haphazard mess before turning back to him. “I have something for you.”

A little pang hit his chest and he almost frowned.

That couldn’t be good.

“You have something for me?”

“Yes,” Felicity said, turning back around, walking over to a bench, setting her purse down. She leaned over again, rummaging through it and Oliver’s eyes instantly zeroed in on that _damn sweater_ again and the entire lack of _anything_ underneath it.

Her ass was up in the air, her sweater slipping up as she looked for whatever she had… and she was talking… about _something_ …

“… you know?”

“What?” Oliver asked, jerking his eyes away from her abruptly, his face burning. He bit his lip. “Sorry, what?”

Felicity glanced back at him, an amused smirk on her face. “A little hungover there, neighbor? I heard your shenanigans last night.”

“Uh… yes.” He cleared his throat. “Yes, hungover.”

“Ah!” she said, finding what she was looking for. She clenched whatever it was in a tight fist and stood up, facing him. His breath caught slightly - she was _gorgeous_ , did she realize how gorgeous she was? And that it was driving him a little crazy? She narrowed her eyes playfully. “I actually shouldn’t give these to you because it’s a little rude I didn’t even get an invite.”

“What?” Oliver blinked, furrowing his brow as her words caught up with him. “Oh! Oh no, no, it was just a poker game with some buddies.”

“Well, I play a mean five card, Oliver, keep that in mind,” Felicity replied. She opened her hand, bringing it up. A couple of keys dangled on a keyring hanging off her finger. “Keys!”

His stomach dropped for a reason he couldn’t even name. “Keys?”

“To my place,” Felicity continued. She grabbed his hand and placed them in his palm. “I need _someone_ to have them, because I have a tendency to get locked out of my place and by ‘get locked out’ I mean I tend to lock myself out, but semantics.” She was still holding his hand and she patted the keys. “So these are for you.”

“… oh.”

“You seem pretty normal, and nice, and like you wouldn’t mind me knocking on your door at three in the morning. Right?” He just blinked and Felicity suddenly frowned. “You’re not a klepto or anything are you? Or a creeper? Or a murderer?”

Oliver laughed, because that was all he could do. “No, not that I’m aware of.”

“Well if you do become aware of such a thing, please let me know and return these.” She patted the keys again before grinning. “This is my ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ basket, and I absolutely realize it’s totally selfish, but I can’t bake, so… keys!”

“Uh, thanks.”

“You don’t have to give me yours or anything,” she continued, letting him go.

Oliver was ridiculously aware of how hot her hands had felt against his skin, and how chilled his suddenly felt without her touch. She turned back to pick up her purse, and his eyes dropped to her ass again for a split second… because he couldn’t _not._

He didn’t have a second to say or do anything before she was turning back to him, pushing up onto her toes, her hand landing on his chest as she kissed his cheek with a quick, “Thanks, Oliver!” But instead of leaving, she paused, narrowing her eyes. “Usually stubble is a thing I don’t get, but on you, I totally get it.”

Oliver blinked, his mind racing to keep up with her - she was a whirlwind of activity, like the second her feet hit the floor in the morning, it was go time and she didn’t slow down until her eyes shut, only to start again the next day.

Her comment about his stubble caught up with him and he let out an incredulous little chuckle. “So the stubble’s a good thing?”

“It’s a _very_ good thing,” Felicity replied with a grin. “Oh frak, I got some…” She reached up to turn his head a little, running her thumb over his cheek and it was shocking how familiar she was with him, and how little he cared. “I got some lipstick on you… there, got it. Have a good day, Oliver!”

And then, just like that, she was gone, turning towards the street.

Oliver didn’t move. He just watched her leave, feeling almost _dazzled_ … which was ridiculous, completely ridiculous. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this affected by a woman… no, he could remember: never. She was something else, completely, and he knew without a doubt that staying away from her was going to be damn _difficult._

Felicity turned at street, turning back to give him a wave and a grin before she disappeared in the crowd.

After a second, Oliver closed his hand around the keys she’d given him, shaking his head.

What just happened?

Laughing under his breath, Oliver looked down at the set of keys, picking them up. There were three of them, and each key had a different dollop of nail polish on them, like they were color-coded, something she’d neglected to explain to him… which meant he’d have to see her a little later, to get that explanation.

Instead of the dread he usually felt at the idea of doing something with someone he couldn’t get a read on, a niggle of excitement made itself evident.

Oliver glanced at where she’d left again, smiling, and put the keys in his pocket, wondering when she’d be home.

He should get her number…

For neighborly reasons, of course.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


	4. Purple Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Felicity watch Purple Rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you know that Prince passed away last Thursday. On top of crying, watching Purple Rain eleventy billion times and getting a tattoo (I'm an emotional tattoo-getting, there's a story behind almost all my tattoos), I figured some Olicity catharsis was in order. The wonderful Angela (@APaolucci) mentioned doing a ficlet for this series.

His fingers trailed over her leg.

They drifted up her shin to her knee, gently circling before he worked his way back down to her foot where he wrapped his large hand around her ankle. He took a second to run his thumb over her ankle bone absently before repeating the entire thing over again. He did it over and over, throughout the course of the entire movie, to the point where she was ridiculously over-aware of him, so much so that his every move left a trail of fire in his path, a heat she felt in her core, leaving her even more sensitive.

Purple Rain wasn’t helping _anything_ , not that it usually did. Every single time she watched this movie, especially the scenes in the club, her stomach pitched, filling with a low, warm feeling that slowly spread through her entire body.

It was only more emphasized by Oliver’s lazy drawings on her skin as he watched with her.

Since she’d heard the news that morning, it’d been the first thing she wanted to do when she got home: watch Purple Rain. Of course, she didn’t have a DVD player and while normally she’d just queue it up on her laptop, it didn’t feel _right_ watching it on there. She needed a television, and surround-sound… aka, all the things Oliver had. So she’d grabbed the DVD after changing into one of her oldest shirts - one of her mom’s, the album cover for Controversy - and her keys. She’d held both between her teeth as she’d thrown her hair up in a ponytail before locking her door and crossing the hallway to his apartment.

It was the middle of the afternoon on a Thursday, she hadn’t expected him to be home, but he had been.

Oliver had opened the door after hearing her struggling to unlock it and she’d barely given him any room to argue when she’d breezed past him with a, _“I need to use your DVD player,”_ and even less room to argue when she’d grabbed his hand after hearing he hadn’t seen it, saying, _“You’re watching with me.”_

A few hours later, as the final cords of ‘Purple Rain’ faded out to the roar of the crowd on the screen, Felicity shifted.

It’d been years since she’d seen the movie, but that scene had never once failed to make her cry, not once… until now. She’d thought it’d be even worse, considering, but she was _distracted_. Really, really _distracted._ She still felt it, that deep emotional pull in her chest, but instead of tears, she wanted something else.

She _needed_ something else.

He dragged his fingertips back up to her knee and instead of going back down, he paused, cupping it gently. His hand was warm and softly calloused… and it felt _good_.

Oliver was sprawled out on the couch behind her, his feet buried in the cushions behind her head, his legs pressed along her back. The quilt she’d tugged over them had fallen off, leaving her bare legs open for his touch. If he noticed she wasn’t wearing anything underneath her t-shirt but a pair of panties, he hadn’t said anything.

Felicity tore her eyes from the screen, turning onto her back, looking down at him where he laid on the opposite side of the couch. His eyes were still glued on the screen. Biting her lip, she pressed her foot into his chest, nudging him just as ‘I Would Die 4 U’ started playing. Oliver looked over at her, raising his eyebrows.

She didn’t waste a second. Felicity didn’t say anything as she sat up, scooting back until she had enough room to turn onto her hands and knees before she crawled over to him. He watched her, his eyes darkening with interest. It was his turn to move, sliding onto his back, making enough room for her to climb on top of him. He licked his lips, his lids growing heavy as Felicity moved over him, bracing herself on the arm of the couch.

Felicity rubbed the length of her body against his as she straddled him and Oliver’s breath stuttered. He wrapped his arms around her, lifting his head just enough to press into her chest. Her shirt was so thin; she felt his stubble grazing over her naked breast, his lips brushing over her nipple. A shiver sliced through her, and she arched her back, thrusting her hips down.

Oliver’s hands dropped, finding her thighs. He slid them up under her shirt, up to her hips, pressing her down even harder just as he thrust up. She gasped, a barely audible, “Yes,” when she felt him through his sweats and her thin panties. “Yes…”

They rocked together, pleasure blossoming between them. Felicity threw her head back as she rotated her hips, making him dig his fingers in, holding on tight. His cock swelled, growing harder. He whispered something she couldn’t catch, too lost in her own pleasure as she rubbed herself against him, gripping the couch so tightly her nailbeds ached.

It felt so good, so, so good, but she wanted more, she knew she could get more.

Felicity sat back, her mouth going dry when she saw him. His head was thrown back, his neck taut, his eyes closed, letting her do whatever she wanted. The light coming off the screen flickered over his features, shadows highlighting just how amazingly gorgeous he was… even more so in that moment. His body was tight with tension because of what she was doing to him, but he wasn’t moving, telling her he’d go wherever she led.

_Yes…_

Desire flooded her, making her sex clench, her nipples tighten with anticipation, and Felicity leaned over him, cupping his face. She thrust down with more force, making him moan loudly, his body arching into hers before her lips fell on his. She swallowed the rest of the tiny noises he made as she rode him, her wetness soaking through her panties and into his sweats where she rubbed.

As the movie drew to a close, Oliver wrapped his arms around her waist, pushing himself up to get closer, his hand splaying over her ass for leverage. The move sent a spike of pleasure through her, so sharp that she whimpered, making her blood boil.

_More_.

Her entrance clenched, her inner walls squeezing at the thought of him being inside her.

She needed it, she needed him.

“Condom,” she gasped against his lips.

“Drawer,” he whispered. “The…” They kissed, and he gave her a needy whine before finishing, “The coffee table drawer, there’s…”

Felicity nodded, not letting him finish before she was kissing him again, this time with more ferocity. It lined her every movement as she gripped his face, keeping him still, angling his head to deepen it. She arched her back, angling her hips right against him. Oliver pushed one hand up under her shirt, the other sliding into her panties, his fingers gripping her ass painfully. It only amplified her pleasure.

_More._

With mindless intent, Felicity pulled back and leaned over to the table, tugging the drawer open. She shoved her hand in, instantly finding a healthy pile of condoms. Later she’d tease him about it, ask him just how often he really thought he was getting lucky because this went beyond the normal level of excessive, but not tonight. Tonight she only cared about one thing.

Grabbing one, she sat back up as Oliver pushed his sweats down. Felicity lifted herself up onto her knees as much as she could, giving him room to move as she tore the package open. His thick erection bounced free and Felicity sat back on his thighs, gripping him tightly. Oliver hissed, instantly falling back against the couch, his hands finding her knees. He dug his blunt nails into her skin as she rolled the condom onto him with practiced ease, letting her nails scrape over his length.

Oliver’s breathing was harsh and uneven, and she glanced up. Her entire body tightened with need when she saw him watching her, lust coloring his face. Lust for her, the same lust that ran rampant through her.

Felicity didn’t even bother taking her panties off, she was too impatient. They both were. She took a shaky breath and gripped him tight. His eyes flew back to hers as she crawled over him again. She reached between her legs, tugging her panties out of the way, and he helped, his fingers grazing hers as she hooked a finger in the soaking wet material, keeping them away as she positioned him at her entrance.

She was so wet, so ready for him. He slid into her with ease, fitting inside her _perfectly_. Felicity took his entire length deep inside her, her hand flying to his stomach for balance, her head falling back with a soft cry as he filled her. She was so _sensitive_ and she felt every bit of him…

Oliver gasped for air underneath her, his free hand slipping under her shirt, finding her breast. His fingers found her nipple, pinching it, making Felicity shudder. She dug her nails into his stomach, and his muscles clenched under her touch.

She started moving. It started out slow, a gentle roll of her hips before she gained more speed, more urgency. Need beat through her veins, humming throughout her entire system, urging her for more, more, more as a white hot coil tightened in her center.

Their combined cries echoed the music as the movie credits rolled, as they moved together.

It didn’t take her long. She was primed - she’d already been primed - and when Oliver suddenly let go of her panties, the material slid back between her legs, the rough lace edge rubbing right against her clit. Felicity gasped, falling over him, digging her hands into his hair, her hips bouncing over him, the wet sound filling the room. It was perfect, so perfect…

She suddenly changed her speed, taking him deeper, angling her hips, grinding herself down on him with each thrust. Oliver’s hand gripped her breast, the other cupping her ass, urging himself even _deeper_ , rotating her hips for her so her clit rubbed right against the rough hair on his pubic bone.

It was her undoing.

Felicity stiffened, letting out a long, low cry before her hips started to move, chasing that feeling. She bounced on him without rhythm, only caring about that perfection growing deep inside her. Pleasure flowed through her, spreading out from her center in a heated rush that left her nerves tingling, her palms burning, every inch of her coiling…

Her cries grew louder, louder…

With one last thrust, Felicity came with a breathless cry, a sheet of white skating over her eyes before darkness took over, sending her tumbling, feeling nothing but him, always him…

Oliver was quick to follow, his back bowing as he thrust up into her with a loud shout that echoed through his living room. His hands fell to her ass, shoving her down even more, pushing himself as deep as he could, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm, matching the quiver in her muscles as they both rode their pleasure out before collapsing onto the couch.

It was several minutes before she opened her eyes again, before she had the energy to do anything but lay there, so pleasantly numb that moving was just not an option. She rested on Oliver’s shoulder, facing the television screen. The DVD menu was back up.

“Wow,” she finally whispered. Because _wow_.

“Yeah,” Oliver replied, just as breathless as she was. His heart was pounding, barely starting to slow down… or was that hers? She couldn’t tell. He chuckled tiredly. “That’s one way to handle this.”

A pang of sadness hit her chest but it was more muffled than before. Watching the movie had been as cathartic as she’d thought it would be, but this… this had been oh so much better and oh so what she needed.

_Wow._

Felicity nodded with a breathy, “It’s fitting.”

Oliver laughed. “Yeah.”

Felicity stared at the menu, at the image of Prince on his motorcycle, absently reading all the bonus features on the DVD. She’d watched them all multiple times. She wanted to watch them all again.

And then she noticed the time.

“Oh frak,” Felicity groaned.

“What?”

“I need to get ready.”

She didn’t move though.

“For what?”

“They’re doing a Prince tribute tonight at Sugar’s.”

Oliver hummed in response, not moving either.

Felicity finally sat up. He was still inside her, and she moved just enough to look down at him, just enough that he didn’t slip out of her yet. His face was completely relaxed as he opened his eyes, meeting her gaze.

“You wanna go?” she asked. “Tommy’s going.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

She chuckled, biting her lip. His eyes dropped down, catching the movement. He wasn’t convinced, and she wasn’t surprised. He usually saved his partying for the weekends; he was far too responsible during the week, which both she and Tommy had teased him about on more than one occasion.

Felicity leaned over, brushing her lips over his. Oliver sighed, turning into her touch. She kissed his cheek, making her way down his jawline until she found his ear.

“It’ll be fun,” she whispered, licking his earlobe. His breath hitched, his grip on her tightening, but he wasn’t agreeing. Yet. She smiled, taking his lobe between her teeth before finishing with, “You really don’t want to miss what I do when they play Darling Nikki.”

That was all it took.

It turned out to be very, _very_ cathartic night.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse. Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.


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